Swan Song
by patronuses
Summary: Naturally, they stuck together. Two stand-alone one-shots. 8.23 Swan Song, Tony/Ziva.
1. 1st One Shot

Naturally, they stuck together.

With Gibbs nowhere to be found and the rain destroying any and all evidence of the murder, there was little for the team to do except wait until morning. Rest and reflection were the main priorities - That way, they would be able to track down P2P with clear minds - but heavy hearts.

However, the idea of going home to empty apartments and overwhelming silence when _he_ could be anywhere was unbearable, and so with an unspoken, unanimous decision, they determined that there was strength in numbers.

Tony's place was the apartment of choice since it was both the closest and the largest. Between the pull-out bed in the living room, the cozy armchair in the corner, and his bed itself, there was more than enough space for the quartet to spread out but still be close. The comfort of each other's company was like a safety tether to the harbor.

Pushing open the door, Tony murmured, "Get the lights, would you, McGee?"

Tim flipped several switches as he moved into the living room and down the hall. Abby trailed behind him, fingers delicately laced around his pinky.

Ziva lingered in the doorway while Tony peeked outside the apartment for good measure. He dead-bolted the door and spied out the peep hole before facing her with a grim smile, "Better safe than sorry."

She nodded wordlessly, and he touched her arm sympathetically, ignoring the part of him that sank at her state of fragility.

Tim and Abby stood in the center of the living room. Tim nodded covertly at Tony, and he understood immediately - They were alone in the apartment.

"I'll pull out the bed in the sofa," Tony said loudly, finding his voice. He cleared his throat awkwardly and dropped it down to a lower tone, "You three hungry?"

Abby looked nauseated at the thought of food, Tim shook his head gruffly, and Ziva had an expression that Tony could read like a book. He shrugged casually, "All right then. You know where the kitchen is."

He disappeared down the hall and later returned in fresh clothes, carrying a stack of linens in his arms.

"Huh. I didn't know you knew how to work a pull-out, McGee," Tony joked lamely, desperate to fill the miserable silence. He dumped the contents of his arms onto the bed, and he tossed a pillow at McGee light-heartedly.

Tim caught it with a stoic expression.

"Where are the girls?" he asked softly after a moment, plopping down in the armchair next to the window. He pushed aside the curtains, eyes narrowing at the stormy darkness. The rain had not slowed down.

"Restroom," Tim replied quietly.

He made a sound of acknowledgement in reply. Tony let his eyes close in exhaustion. He knew that sleep wouldn't come, but there was something comforting about having the ability close and open them - It could have just as easily been him or McGee or Ziva or Gibbs.

It was a glorious thing to be alive. Tony knew he had cheated death more times than he could count, and he had a feeling that he didn't have too many lucky breaks left in him. Tony never could quite grasp how cruel it really was. He had seen countless colleagues and coworkers go down on the job, and by now, he was convinced that being the one to die was easier than being the one left behind.

He thought inexplicably of Kate. She still crossed his mind on a daily basis, and sometimes there would be things, little things, that would make him remember her. There were thousands of things he wished he could have said to his old partner, and more than anything, he wished he had treated her better. He was different then, and with a slight jolt, Tony realized that nearly six years had already passed.

Vaguely, he wondered what he would be feeling if he were Gibbs. _Probably the way I'd feel if Gibbs were the one who kicked the bucket, _he realized a moment later. Tony hoped that his boss was keeping it together, and knowing Gibbs, he was probably looking over every single detail leading up to the showdown.

Tony was pulled from his trance when Ziva and Abby reappeared, red-eyed and miserable. Abby moved to sit in the center of the bed, crossing her legs in front of her and pulling a pillow into her lap. She sniffed loudly, grip tightening around the pillow, and McGee squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

Ziva stood near the edge of the room, separated from the rest of them and swaying slightly in her spot. Her eyes were unfocused like she was seeing past the walls of the room and out into the foul world below. She appeared to have somewhat pulled herself together, but Tony knew better than that. The dark circles, broken expression, and curly hair confirmed it.

With a loud sigh, Tony heaved himself out of the armchair and moved toward his kitchen. He pulled a mug out before rubbing his tired eyes with his palms. Everything _hurt. _His entire body was wrought with tension and anxiety. A hammer had been slamming against his head for several hours now - He would give anything to be able to curl up in bed and sleep for days.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Ziva slipping into a chair at the small kitchen table. He took out an additional mug from a cabinet. Tony hovered over his counter, working in silence because nothing he thought of saying to break the tension seemed appropriate.

Taking a seat across from his weary partner, he gently placed a steaming mug in front of her.

"It's tea," Tony said softly. "I think I got the flavor right."

She cradled the mug in her hands and avoided his eyes.

He swirled the contents of his cup with his spoon absently, leaning his chin on his palm. A part of him felt fifteen again - Sitting at a restaurant with his father, waiting for some sort of cue and not knowing what to do with himself until then.

"Where do we go from here?" Ziva's voice was hoarse and cracking from underuse.

Tony shook his head, "I can only speculate. Now that we have both a name and a face, we may be able to catch a trail, but - We don't know what he's going to do. If he's sensible, he'll disappear for awhile because Gibbs is out for revenge. But if he's not -"

He stopped talking abruptly, shaking his head.

Ziva finished for him, sounding more like herself, "If he is not, he will go after more."

"His targets could very well be us," Tony said finally, voicing the thought that had been looming over everyone's minds. "Attacking Mike could have been spur of the moment. He could have wanted to go after Gibbs instead, he could have just been studying, he could have just wanted to figure out how close we were to catching him - We don't know."

"It could have been us."

Ziva wore a wretched expression on her face, and Tony reached across the table to touch her hand.

"But it wasn't, Ziva. We dodged yet another bullet. And - Mike always wanted to go out fighting, and I think that he'd be proud of himself for it." Tony knew his words were weak, but they were the best he could muster up.

Her head was shaking slowly, and her eyes were firmly focused on the table before her.

"Oh Ziva," Tony sighed. "We'll get him."

"How many more people have to die before we do?" she demands quietly, and Tony wonders what's worse: a shouting, raging, furious Ziva or a bitter, withdrawn, hopeless one.

He didn't have an answer for her, but he tightened the grip he had over one of her hands, hoping that she understood what he meant by the gesture.

"You haven't been around here in awhile," Tony suddenly pointed out.

She replied dully, "I was here a few weeks ago, Tony."

"What kind of weeks do you count? It was a couple months ago."

"Your point, Tony?"

He shrugged in reply. "Once upon a time, you were over nearly every week, and I guess, well, I don't know. I think I just realized how much time has passed." Tony gave her a long, searching look, running his thumb across the back of her hand.

She returned the gaze steadily, and there was a flicker of something in her blood-shot eyes that he couldn't place.

"We should probably take advantage of our chance to recharge. Gibbs will have us working like dogs in the morning."

Ziva nodded in agreement, passing Tony her untouched tea. He left their mugs in the sink and turned off the lights before following her back into the living room. He touched the small of her back when he reached her, mumbling above her head, "You can take my bed. I'll sleep on the window seat."

McGee and Abby were already asleep in the sofa bed, and while the two of them were separated for now, it wasn't going to last very long, knowing Abby's cuddly-nature. Given this, Tony doubted Ziva wanted to take the armchair just a few feet away. He knew that feeling. It would be an invasion of privacy.

He lead her toward his room and felt rather awkward in doing so. He still wasn't sure about where they stood or if they stood anywhere at all. Their pasts were muddled and messy with overweight baggage that they both lugged around. Once upon a time, they were reaching a boiling point - do or don't - but they were separated before the point was even reached. She was his partner, and he cared very much about her. (he did, after all, technically go on a suicide mission for her) - Whether or not he was in love was a different thing entirely.

Hell, he wasn't even sure of that.

But then, there was EJ. He liked her, sure, but he had been with enough wrong women to know that she didn't make him feel anything significant. Tony hated to break it to himself, but in complete honesty, she was just something to do.

He internally winced at the pun.

Pushing open the door to his bedroom, he said, "You're lucky I decided to clean up before I left this morning."

Tony moved toward the long window seat on the left side of the room. It was ultimately the reason he decided to get the apartment. It was a unique feature, and the view of the city was stunning.

Ziva hesitated at the edge of his bed, looking at him expectantly.

"Hm?"

"You don't _have_ to sleep on the sill, Tony."

"It wouldn't be right if I made you sleep on it - Or worse, sleep on the armchair next to Abby and McGee." He grinned a little.

It took her a moment to find the right word to say. She settled with something simple.

"Paris?"

"Oh."

Tony rocked on his heels uncertainly. Ultimately making his decision, he figured that since they did it before without issue, so it shouldn't be anything different. He nodded to himself before covering the distance between the bed and the window in two strides. He climbed into his bed, his heart fluttering of its own accord, and settled back against a pillow.

Ziva had turned off the lamp and crawled in also.

He was aware of her warmth, and even with the distance between them, it was a little overpowering. There was something inviting and comforting about her next to him, and he struggled to keep himself from radiating closer. Tony mumbled into the darkness, throat a little tight, "Feel free to keep your hands to yourself."

She made no reply, and just when he thought that she had already fallen asleep, she said, "No promises."

Despite everything, he couldn't help but let out a constricted laugh.


	2. 2nd One Shot

His eyes softened at the sight of her standing in his doorway. Gently, he took the dripping umbrella from her hands and leaned it against the wall. He stepped out of the way. She walked past him wordlessly, moving toward the dimly-lit living room down the hall. As his eyes followed her, he released the breath he didn't realize he was holding, letting the door shut behind him with a quiet click.

He sauntered down the hall after her and joined her on the couch, being careful to leave a little space between them. Very casually, he muted the television and took a sip from the beer on the coffee table. He dragged in a long breath to calm himself, but it didn't help much. Giving her a look, he murmured her name, "Ziva."

Ziva shook her head, staring directly ahead at the flickering television. Her eyes were blood-shot, and her hair was tousled. She was dressed in a pull-over and a pair of baggy sweats, and she looked as if she had just rolled out of bed. Tony figured that at least she was in a better state than she was in back at the office.

He stared at her profile, a strangling emotion filling his chest.

"All right?" he asked her very softly, wanting to touch her hand but wondering if she'd let him.

It took awhile before she found her voice. "No, Tony, I am not all right."

Tony made a sound of discontent and asked her, "Is there anything I can do?"

A glimmer of amusement touched her eyes and she said, "I think that is the first time you have asked something like that."

He was grateful to see something other than grief on her face, but he grumbled a little, hiding his relief, "There's no need to act so surprised. It's not that out of character."

She didn't reply, and Tony continued genuinely, feeling his voice grow tender again, "I mean it though, Ziva."

"I know," she sighed, scooting toward him. Their thighs were touching, and she leaned her cheek against his arm.

Tony froze, his eyebrows pulling together while alarm shot through him. He was taken back by the gesture. This wasn't like her - It took him a moment and a deep breath to realize that he was wrong. This _was_ her, but she was hurting, and _his_ heart ached because of it.

Without thinking, he wrapped the arm around her, pulling her closer to him. It was an instinct, just like the hug in the elevator hours before. There were no hidden emotions behind the movement - It wasn't awkward, and there was no tension. It was comforting to feel her next to him, warm, breathing, and so very _alive._

He almost lost her more times than he could count, and right then, with his arm around her and her head against the side of his neck, the reality of Mike's death set in. The man who stumbled out alive when Jenny died, the one who had a nub as a finger, the man who was tough as nails and who called _Gibbs_ Probie was dead. Murdered.

An irking, selfish part of Tony was glad that it wasn't one of the team.

He felt guilty for even letting the thought cross his mind, but the idea of McGee or Abby or Gibbs or _Ziva_ being in his place in autopsy made Tony's stomach clench in physical pain.

Closing his eyes, he pressed his lips to the very top of her head, his nose being filled with the overpowering smell of Ziva. He felt the tension in her body ease, and it made the helpless feeling in his gut go away. Tony savored the intimacy of their closeness because, after all these years, finally let him in. A thick layer of trust and understanding had settled between the two of them - Three years ago, if anyone were to tell him that Ziva would show up at his apartment wanting to be comforted, Tony would have probably doubled over on the floor laughing.

Tony didn't linger over the details because, at the moment, she was nestled against his side, relying on him for reassurance, and suddenly the mixture of reasons why Ziva was in his apartment in the middle of the night became crystal clear.

"It's ironic," Tony said, voicing his thoughts because she was being open with him and it was only fair that he was open as well, "You being here is ironic."

She made a sound, tilting her head up to look at him.

He swallowed with difficulty under her gaze, saying, "We've come a long way."

"We have," she agreed after giving him a long, searching look. "It took time."

"More time than it should have, and I know that it's a little too late, but I'm sorry, Ziva."

She shook her head, closing her eyes and leaning her forehead against the warm skin of his neck. He let his eyes flicker closed as well, a wave of pleasure flowing through him. "No, Tony. We have been over this. I am sorry." Tony couldn't think of a reply, and she continued, "This may be too late as well, but thank you. For everything."

"You don't need to thank me for anything, Ziva," he told her immediately. "You don't. I have your back, remember?"

"I know you do. You always have..." Ziva took in a long breath of air. She felt comfortable with admitting something to him too,"I could not stand being alone tonight."

"I figured that you weren't here for a couple drinks and a pizza," Tony joked lightly. His expression turned into a frown, and he said, "I mean... I don't blame. Mike is dead, and he was nearly bulletproof... Jonas is still out there, waiting and plotting. He's been watching us, and I have no doubt in my mind that he knows where every single one of us lives -"

She moved out of his grasp, putting enough space between them so that she could look at him fully. Ziva's eyes were weary and watery. He placed a hand over hers in a weak attempt to soothe the pain she was in.

Tony winced when he registered that he probably shouldn't have said that aloud. He sighed at their situation. He was exhausted and confused and _scared_. It took a lot to make him - and her - to worry enough to lose sleep over it. He mumbled, "I'm glad you're here, Ziva. Really, I am. It's easier to not be alone."

"I can't believe he's gone." Her voice was as quiet as an exhale of breath, but he heard her loud and clear.

Running his thumb over her soft skin, he said, "It makes this real, doesn't it? He brought it to our front yards, and now we're out for blood." Tony ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the tightening in his chest and silently vowing to Mike that they would make sure he didn't die in vain. He was thinking out loud, "I hope Gibbs is holding it together."

"I can only imagine how he feels," she whispered quietly.

"And I think that the worst thing about this is that - It could have been us. Mike was just at the wrong place at the wrong time." Tony felt a sinking feeling in his stomach that confirmed his suspicions, "Or maybe, it could be us next."

He chuckled, just a little, "I don't know about you, but I'm getting a little sick of getting accused of murder and having a dozen close calls a year. I swear that everyone else never have half the problems we do."

"We have not been accused of murder in awhile, though."

He could help but laugh because she was right. It had been almost a year since either of them had been accused of it. "Even still, I think we somehow pulled the short end of the stick."

She sighed, her short-lived smile fading as quick as it had shown up.

There were things that he wish he could tell her, emotions that he couldn't quite put into words. He was glad she was with him. Tony would have preferred a happier reason, but all the same, she was there. A part of him constantly missed her, but he didn't know how that could be possible when they spent most of their days together.

Of course, he knew _why_ he missed her, even if he didn't want to admit it to himself.

There were still complications, really. CI-Ray and EJ, respectively. He half-wondered if she actually loved Ray, but Tony didn't want to think about it because it would be easier for him not to know. And Tony liked EJ, but it wasn't enough. They got along well, and the mutual level of understanding was a nice touch, but as time went on, it became painstakingly obvious that there was something crucial missing from their relationship.

Naturally, he knew what it was.

Tony looked at Ziva. He had known for years, but denial and roadblocks always kept the two of them apart. She knew too - There would be moments, glimmers of - _something _in her expression that screamed it at him. It was just lust or attraction or anything physical anymore. Over time, without either of them really realizing it, they grew to depend on each other.

It took the shock of nearly losing her to make him understand that he _needed _her.

Tony brought a hand up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She turned her head to look at him - she had changed the channel to the news when he was lost in thought - and smiled sadly. He could have done it then - blurted out every feeling he had for her - but he restrained himself and grinned back shyly. He brought his arm down from the cushion behind them and massaged the back of her shoulder casually.

They sat in silence for a long time, watching the muted television, his hand continuing to rub her back because he couldn't stop himself. She scooted closer again, finding the now-familiar spot against his neck. He reveled in how natural it felt, sitting on his couch, curled together, and he wondered why it took them so long to get their acts together. Tony wished that he could see the expression on her face, knowing that seeing her face would give him the courage to tell her how much she meant to him.

But then again, she probably already knew.

He sighed, kissing the top of her head and inhaling deeply again. As much as the looming danger should worry him, he couldn't really bring himself to care. There were so many things wrong in their world that he didn't feel bad for choosing to ignore them for awhile, not when he actually had something going right for once.

His grip around her tightened, and he suddenly very felt thankful to be alive. In some ways, they hadn't drawn the short sticks after all.

She moved closer to him, and he was convinced that he was right.

They were given this chance for a reason.


End file.
